


Sociology

by Fallowsthorn



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Blow Jobs, Consensual Sex, Dirty Talk, Frottage, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Outdoor Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sharing a Bed, Size Difference, Super Mutant (Fallout 4), Voyeurism, half-assed setup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-05 15:33:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16370291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fallowsthorn/pseuds/Fallowsthorn
Summary: Horny super mutants and consensual blowjobs, what's not to like?





	Sociology

**Author's Note:**

> You may notice that the title, beginning, and end of this are rushed, poorly-written, and in other words have all been completely half-assed. This is because I wanted to write porn, you want to read porn, and absolutely nobody is here for the plot. If you are here for the plot, I have some bad news, which is that I couldn't be fucked to come up with one. This is indulgent trash, enjoy!

The first thing Casey said when he met Erickson was, “Are you gonna try to kill me?”

Well, actually, the first thing he said was, “Jesus fuck,” but that was more of a reflex. So sue him if he was a bit startled by a seven-and-a-half-foot super mutant stepping out from the wreckage of an airplane, pointing a gun at him but not immediately firing.

The super mutant laughed, amiably instead of mocking, which was also something Casey had never seen before. He looked Casey up and down and lowered his pipe rifle. “Not unless you give me a good reason, stranger.” His voice was rough and deep, but it didn't have the clipped whine to it that Casey’d come to expect from super mutants. He sounded like a normal person. For some definitions of normal. “I’m Erickson.”

“Casey,” Casey said automatically, and then, “I'm sure you get this a lot, but -- _what?”_

Erickson laughed again. It wasn’t a bad sound. He holstered his gun and beckoned. “Nobody told you about the tame super mutant who lives in the woods? Come in, it's only going to get colder out here in the damp.”

Casey hesitated, weighed his options, then shrugged and holstered his pistol as well, following Erickson into the fuselage. It wasn’t exactly the Ritz, but it was a good deal warmer, drier, and brighter, and Casey certainly wasn't going to complain. He sat on the floor while Erickson messed with the hanging lanterns, glad to be off his feet.

“You haven't been down to the old pop factory yet, have you?” Casey shook his head. “Good. Don't. There's a behemoth trapped in one of the storage bays and it'll probably be another twenty years before he dies of starvation.

“To answer the question you've got written on your forehead, yes, I am more or less a normal super mutant. The short version is something about the island made me... lucid again. I don’t know why just me and not the group I came here with. I trade with the town sometimes, but mostly it's just me and the dogs out here. They're out hunting,” he added when Casey looked around. “Isn't often I see a new face around here. You get lost on the way to them synths?”

Casey relaxed a bit. Super mutant or not, Erickson seemed like a fair enough person, and certainly an improvement on the trees. “Nah, figured I’d play errand boy. People in town willing to pay, and I'm willing to fetch. Works out.”

They talked idly, Casey glad for the chance to set his gear down and Erickson clearly glad for the company, though he wasn’t keen on showing it. Once the sun set, they made a stew that Casey was vaguely dubious about the contents of, despite having been there during the cooking. Wasteland haute cuisine.

Erickson offered to let him stay the night and Casey gratefully accepted. He laid out his thin bedroll on the opposite side of the fire and drowsily responded until the fire and the conversation had both died out. Unfortunately, that didn't make it any easier to get comfortable. 

Casey shivered. He’d eventually be able to sleep, he knew from experience, but in the meantime the interior of the downed plane was drafty, cold, and slightly damp from the fog. He breathed on his fingers. He just had to wait until his body heat sank into his bedroll, but that was looking pretty far away right then.

Erickson shifted. “You’re cold.” Casey could hear the frown in his voice.

“I'll be fine in a minute. Sorry to keep you up.”

“Come here.”

Casey rolled over and sat up, not sure he'd heard right. “What?”

Erickson lay on his side, watching Casey’s outline in the moonlight. He looked entirely too comfortable, and something in Casey’s chest ached with how much he missed simply sleeping next to another person.

“Super mutants run hotter than humans. Maybe ‘cause we’re bigger, I don't know.”

Casey had been in the Commonwealth for too long to look a gift horse in the mouth. He scrambled over next to Erickson, then hesitated, unsure just how friendly that offer was supposed to be.

Erickson laughed, just a little, quietly, and reached for Casey, who let himself be maneuvered gently but firmly until he was lying facing the same direction as Erickson, with his back to the mutant’s chest. Once he got the idea, he pressed himself back a little more, because damn, he hadn’t been lying about being warm. Erickson settled his arm over Casey’s side; he was big enough that it almost didn’t rest on Casey at all. Casey promptly curled around his hand and forearm, abandoning all pretense of propriety. Erickson made a small noise.

“It’s fucking cold,” Casey said, which was true.

“Sleep,” Erickson told him. His voice rumbled along the length of Casey’s spine and Casey had to fight not to shiver at the sensation. Eventually, though, exhaustion won out.

He woke some time later, at first not sure why. It was lighter out than it had been, but it couldn’t have been later than five in the morning. He twisted, looking around, and realized Erickson was gone, and the space behind him was nearly cold.

Casey frowned. Ordinarily he’d have assumed Erickson had gone to relieve himself, but that wouldn’t have taken long enough for his body heat to evaporate. Mindful of the wolves in the woods, he rolled into a crouch, grabbed up his machete, and drifted towards the dot on his Pip-Boy marked “Erickson.”

He needn’t have bothered, and in fact probably shouldn’t have. He’d been expecting anything on a scale of “Erickson doing camp work at 5 am for some reason” to, at the worst, “Erickson’s mangled body.” What he did not expect was to find the super mutant naked and braced with his back against a sturdy tree, one hand covering his mouth and the other wrapped around his dick.

Casey, instead of doing the smart thing and hightailing it and pretending he’d never seen any of that, froze. Then Erickson saw him and froze too, and that was basically it for plausible deniability.

“Sorry,” Casey said, face burning. “I--um--I, uh--” _Leave, you fucking idiot,_ he yelled at himself, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Erickson’s cock, jutting proudly above his hips. He could feel himself starting to get hard, too. Could this day get any more embarrassing. No, he shouldn’t ask that, the answer would always be yes.

As soon as Casey had spoken, Erickson had snatched both his hands away, which was an understandable reaction but didn’t actually help at all. The hand over his mouth had tooth marks in it; he’d been biting his palm to keep from making noise. He looked about as alarmed as Casey felt, which would have been funny if this wasn’t going to inevitably end in a total disaster. Casey had never seen a super mutant at a loss before.

“I, um...” he tried again. _Stop staring, dumbass._ It didn’t work. He could see every slight bob as Erickson’s heart beat, every little twitch when a breeze picked up for just a few seconds. He wet his lips before he could stop himself. Oh god. “I’ll just, uh....” He gestured vaguely, realized he was still holding his machete, and winced. “Sorry, I didn’t think, um.” He finally got himself to drag his eyes back up to Erickson’s face.

To his credit, Erickson didn’t look like he wanted to strangle Casey. He swallowed, his surprised expression rapidly turning insightful, and said slowly, “You don’t have to.”

Casey blinked at him.

Erickson tilted his head slightly and finally rested both hands on his thighs, which did not help the whole looking-at-his-face thing that Casey was trying to keep up.

“Have to--?” Casey croaked.

“You don’t have to leave,” Erickson repeated. “If you don’t want to.”

“Is it because we were--” Casey blurted, all in a rush, and immediately wanted to hit his head on the nearest tree. Seriously? An invitation to watch the only hot, friendly super mutant he’d ever met masturbate, and his first thought was to ask if it was because _he_ was so goddamn special? Christ, why had Nate ever married him, anyway?

“Somewhat,” said Erickson, who apparently had the patience of a saint and was still just as hard as he’d been before, wow. “I’ve never met a human who wanted... who let me touch them.”

Well, if that wasn’t just the saddest fucking thing Casey had ever heard. “Their loss,” he said, not paying attention to what his mouth was doing now that he’d been given permission to look, the way he hadn’t last night.

There wasn’t an inch of Erickson that wasn’t taut muscle under skin, except for the obvious. Like every Wastelander, his body was scattered with scars both faded and recent. Casey could see why he wore a hood most of the time, aside from as a trophy; his jaw was asymmetrical, and his nose had clearly been broken several times, including to fix the damage from previous breaks. It wasn’t an aesthetic that would immediately appeal to most humans. With it off, though, his green-and-tan skin looked dappled in the early morning sun, and his pale eyes glittered.

“Do super mutants--” he started, then realized that he was _still_ holding the machete and planted it blade-first into the mossy ground, just to get it out of the way. Unfortunately, that gave him time to think about what he was about to say. “Um. Every super mutant I’ve ever seen has been male?”

Erickson gave him a skeptical look and folded his arms. “You get that I came out here to jack off, not give you a sociology lecture, right?”

Like he could forget. Casey snuck one hand down to adjust himself in his pants, before he remembered that he didn’t have to be sneaky about it. “Right, I just. Sorry.” What in the fuck was coming out of his mouth.

“Show me yours,” Erickson prompted him. “I’m feeling awkward, being the only naked one around here.” His leer and persistent erection said that _awkward_ wasn’t what he was feeling at the moment.

Casey laughed and didn’t argue the point. He hastily undid his belt and fly, then gave up and sat down to take his clothes completely off, dumping them next to the machete. “What do you want me to do?”

Erickson assessed him. “Nothing you don’t want to.” He brought his hand back to his cock, idly running his fingers over the head. “But you’ll have to tell me what that is. If you’re looking for directions, though, then just watch for now. Don’t touch yourself.”

Casey, who had been about to do exactly that, instead grabbed a handful of grassy moss with a disappointed groan. Erickson smirked. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you. Pay attention.”

He started stroking himself again, slowly at first, watching Casey watching him with heavy eyes. Casey was aware he was leaning forward, a bit, unconsciously, but didn’t have the spare brainpower to be embarrassed about it. Every movement Erickson made, Casey could almost _feel_ on his own body. He jumped and shuddered when Erickson added a twist to the end of each stroke. They both gasped in unison when he lightly pinched the skin just below his glans. Casey had to look away for a moment to keep from doing the same without thinking about it. He suddenly very badly wanted to know exactly what it felt like.

Erickson’s hand started to speed up, and Casey abruptly remembered something he’d wanted to do for quite a while. “Wait,” he said, “wait, before you -- can I suck you off?”

Erickson’s hips jerked, which was gratifying, and his vaguely annoyed expression melted into one of clear want. “Yes,” he said, voice rough. “But after. Not this one. I want you to see me come.”

Only the second half of that statement made any sense to Casey, but it was the half he was fervently in agreement with. “Yes, oh my god yes. Please show me.” He was shit at dirty talk, but if he could have found the words, he would have said: show me what it looks like when the entire line of your body pulls tight like a bowstring. Show me the face you make when you can’t even think of controlling it. I want to see you fall apart, I want that picture in my head for the rest of time.

But he couldn’t, so he didn’t, so the only sound in the little clearing was their ragged breathing as Erickson curled into himself and came, letting his semen drip onto the forest floor. Casey thought vaguely that that was a shame, but he didn’t say anything, not wanting to ruin the moment while Erickson came down from his orgasm.

He kept his hands out in front of him, too. He could feel his cock demanding attention underneath him, flushed an angry, neglected red, but so far doing what Erickson said had turned out remarkably well. He saw no reason to break with tradition.

Erickson caught his breath and straightened up, then leaned his head back against the tree trunk and looked down at Casey warmly. “You look gorgeous like that,” he murmured. “Trying to please me. You’re doing so well.”

 _Someone has a kink,_ Casey thought, ignoring the fact that his breathing had stuttered because he very much also had that kink. _Don’t give blowjobs in glass houses,_ his brain fed him nonsensically. Not that there was much chance of that anymore, with--

Huh. “Hey, you’re not going soft,” he said.

Erickson shook his head. “We come more than once.”

“Well, most people do,” Casey said, a bit dumbly, then made the connection. “Oh! You mean in one....” He made a gesture with both hands, as though outlining a block of time.

“Yes, that,” Erickson said, amused.

“Why? Actually, how?”

“I don’t know _why,_ but it seems like super mutants just make too much... stuff, to get it all out in one go. Most can come three or four times. Highest I’ve seen was eight, if you don’t count behemoths.”

Casey blinked. “That... was not something I had ever thought of, and now it’s something I will never be able to un-think of, thanks so much.”

“You’re welcome,” Erickson said blandly. He pushed himself away from the tree and approached Casey, who rose up on his knees to meet Erickson halfway. As soon as he came close, though, an entirely different problem presented itself.

“Hmm.” Erickson was just under two feet taller than Casey, but his proportions were the same as the average human’s. Kneeling, Casey only came up to his mid-thigh, which made giving a blowjob at best ridiculous and at worst impossible.

Casey hooked a hand behind Erickson’s knee, and he went with the pressure, reclining so he laid on his back, propping himself up with his elbows. Casey showed his appreciation by straddling his legs and immediately licking a broad stripe along the top of his cock.

Erickson dropped flat on his back with a low moan. “Will it fit?” he asked the air above them.

It wasn’t an entirely arrogant question. Like the rest of him, Erickson’s cock was not to human scale, especially not fully erect as it was. Casey eyed it. “Let me try.”

He fit his mouth carefully over the head, which was probably the cruelest thing he’d ever done unintentionally, because Erickson immediately tensed, trying to stay still. He shifted so he wouldn’t accidentally get kneed in the throat (a moodkiller if there ever was one) and changed the angle of his mouth. Even with the adjustment, Erickson was right: there was no way Casey was going to be able to take more than an inch or two, not unless he suddenly turned into a super mutant.

Well, he could work with that. He softened his tongue and flattened it next to the vein there, feeling Erickson’s pulse rush hot and heavy in his mouth. He sucked, suckled almost, gently and insistently, unhurried. When Erickson’s hips started to rise despite his efforts to keep still, Casey pulled off and instead licked and kissed at the inside of his thighs. He leaned forward and saw Erickson’s hand was back over his mouth. 

“Why do you do that?” Casey asked.

It took Erickson a second to process the question. “Do what?”

“With your hand like you just were. No one else is around, and you didn't make much noise when you came the first time anyway.”

Erickson blinked. “Third.”

“What?”

“That was the third time. You weren't here for the first two.”

“Damn. You still didn’t answer the question.”

“I, uh--” Erickson propped himself up on his elbows again. If anything, he looked a little embarrassed. “I like it. Being gagged.”

“So you _do_ fuck each other.”

“I liked your mouth better when my dick was in it,” Erickson grumped.

Casey just laughed. “Oh, no, you have to tell me now. Is it like a dominance thing, or bros helping bros, or what?”

“Ugh.” Erickson thumped his head back down on the grass. “Yes, no, all of the above. It's sex, not some obscure super mutant ritual.”

“Fine,” Casey said, and put his hand back on Erickson’s cock. “Tell me how you found out you like being gagged. You stop talking, I stop moving.”

Erickson inhaled. “You drive a hard bargain.” He took a minute to collect his thoughts. “I'd found a... a pack, a clan, a tribe, whatever groups of super mutants are called. Been on my own before that. Fresh meat starts out low-status, last one to eat, you get the shit jobs, stuff like that. Super mutants... we fuck, a lot, and a warm body’s always nice. Hierarchy says who, uh, takes it.”

“I think it's funny,” Casey said, directly to the base of Erickson’s cock, “that you get prissy about euphemisms in the middle of a blowjob. Sort of a blowjob, anyway.”

Erickson gave him a dry look. “Hierarchy determines who gets to shove their dick into someone else's ass. Happy?” Casey just hummed in response.

“So we were supposed to be covering the south side of our territory, but our behemoth was horny and got himself distracted fucking -- basically a hole in the ground. Behemoths are at the top of the heap, but even they have enough brains to figure out they can't put two feet of cock in a ten-inch hole. Still, nobody wants to be the one Grun might redirect onto, and we're all sitting there smelling him, and eventually someone says, fuck it, and just sssss-- god, fuck, do that again with your tongue, yes, yes--” Erickson cut himself off and just moaned.

True to his word, though, Casey halted entirely, and waited with a smirk for Erickson to continue his story.

“Fuck you,” Erickson said.

“Maybe next time,” Casey said pleasantly. Erickson gave him a startled look and he grinned.

“Uh... right, uh,” Erickson said, then remembered his train of thought. “Right! So some guys split off into groups and some just start jacking it ‘cause they don't want to wait, and I wind up with Murk and Runt and Grizzle. Runt’s new but not as new as me. Grizzle’s the oldest aside from Grun, so we all kinda look at him to see what we’re gonna do, and he puts me on my back on the ground and tells Murk to fuck me good -- please, teeth, just a litt--ah!” He shuddered for a long moment.

“R--Runt’s kinda the same way as me, likes to... follow instead of lead, I guess? But he almost never topped. Him and Grizzle had something going on, I dunno. Anyway, Murk’s railing me, he's not the greatest, but he's okay, usually gets you off at least once, and I can look over to -- to the side and Runt’s on his knees in front of Grizzle like he's at a fuckin’ altar, goddamn gorgeous -- Grizzle’s pettin’ him--” 

Erickson carded his broad fingers through Casey’s hair, as if to demonstrate. Casey wasn't totally sure that he was doing it on purpose. His hand shook a bit and Casey hummed, encouraging.

“Murk fig--figured out I wasn't, hah, paying attention -- stop, stop, I'm g--gonna--”

Casey let him go entirely and hovered nearby while Erickson came down from his edge. “You okay?” he asked, once Erickson stopped moving his hips in tiny circles, trying to fuck nothing.

Erickson groaned. “You have no idea how hard it is not to grab you and fuck your mouth. How are you so good at this?”

“Practice,” Casey said, then leaned up and over to plant a soft kiss on Erickson’s lips.

Erickson went quiet and still and Casey pulled back again. “Sorry, I should’ve asked--”

“No, it’s.” Erickson cleared his throat. He looked a little like someone had hit him over the head. “I, uh. Wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.”

Casey crossed his arms and propped himself up on Erickson’s chest. “Do super mutants kiss each other?”

“Remind me why I agreed to this, again?” Erickson said dryly.

Casey laughed and scooted back down. “Hey, you didn’t finish your story, you should do that.”

Erickson tipped his head back and let out a long, slow sigh as Casey’s mouth and hands engulfed him again. After a second he realized Casey was just sitting there, not moving. “Oh. Story. The fuck was... oh yeah. Murk came in me and then he got me off, too, and actually now that I think about it it was probably to distract me ‘cause I don’t think Grizzle thought of it on his own.... Anyway, Grizzle kind of hauls me up so I’m sort of on top of Murk -- not sure how to describe it, but he did it so he could put Runt across from him, behind me, and then I felt his fingers on my ass -- Grizzle’s, not Runt’s, because I think Runt figured out what was going on the same time I did--” He broke off. He wasn’t panting, exactly, but taking deep, slow breaths like he wasn’t getting enough air.

Casey was pretty sure he knew where this was going, and figured a little interactive storytelling might be in order. He slid one hand up under Erickson’s ass, exploring. Erickson made a surprised, pleased noise and hitched his legs open wider to show his enthusiasm, and kept talking as Casey fingered him.

“I mean, I’d done it before, but only a couple times, usually nobody has the patience. Lot easier to just wait your turn--! Uh, but Grizzle stretched me out some more and Murk held me up some, that was nice of him, we were kinda this big mess of legs. Runt wasn’t doing anything. I don’t think he could do much more than hold himself up, really, I told you the guy almost never fucked anybody. He, uh, he, oh fuck Casey please don’t stop, please, please, I need--”

Casey, feeling merciful, didn’t stop, and a moment later tasted salt and radiation over the back of his tongue. And to think, six subjective months ago he hadn’t known radiation had a taste. He pulled off, swallowed what was in his mouth, and kept stroking Erickson through his orgasm.

As soon as Erickson stilled, Casey hauled himself up to straddle his thigh, kissing his throat and chest while rutting furiously against him. Erickson’s hands came up to cup his ass and Casey came with a strangled noise that he tried to muffle on Erickson’s skin.

Erickson swept his thumb across the small of Casey’s back. Casey came back to himself, a little, but kept making tiny movements with his hips, enjoying the sweet sting of too-sensitive aftershocks. A second broad hand braced him and forced him still, and Casey realized that in wriggling around, his hip was sliding against Erickson’s now-limp cock. Part of him wanted to keep doing it, but his better judgement weighed in and he subsided.

“I feel a little bad,” Erickson admitted. “Should’ve done something for you, there.”

“Didn’ wanna wait,” Casey said muzzily. “God, you’re gorgeous.” He pressed his open mouth to Erickson’s chest, alternately probing and sucking at the muscle with his tongue.

Erickson snorted. “No I’m not. Nice of you to say, though.” The hand on Casey’s ass came up to pet his hair and stroke down the length of his spine.

Casey was going to argue, but he had melted into a blissful puddle. “So wha’ ‘appen’?” he slurred.

Erickson stopped petting him, correctly guessing that it was that cause of Casey’s extremely acute speech impediment. “What?”

“What happened? With Grizzle and them.”

“Oh.” Casey had never seen a super mutant blush before, even if it was only just a little. It was surprisingly adorable. “It felt fuckin’ amazing, is what. I came again before Runt even got all the way in, and I know he came somewhere in there because he kept biting my shoulder, trying not to jerk around too much and lose all his progress. I dunno how Murk stayed still, I sure wasn’t trying. Just couldn't move much.

“When we got settled Grizzle had Runt lie down and then I think he went and put his cock in Runt’s mouth? But I don't know for sure, they were behind me so I couldn’t get a good look. Every time anybody moved it jostled all of us. I was making these... noises, uh, just adjusting. Grizzle must’ve wanted me to shut up ‘cause he put his hand over my mouth and pulled me back so I had to lean on him to stay up and I think that's the hardest I've ever come in my life.”

“Jesus,” Casey said, more an indication of awe than anything else. He picked his head up and considered Erickson. “I bet you’re really pretty when you get fucked until you cry.”

Erickson just stared. His cock was much less conflicted, and twitched. Casey felt it and gave Erickson his best shit-eating grin. “What, aren’t super mutants kinky?”

“Do you ever think about what you say, or are you as surprised as the rest of us when it comes out of your mouth?” Erickson asked, exasperated but doing a poor job of hiding his smile. “Come on, get up.”

“Don’t wanna,” Casey said, then yelped when Erickson stood up anyway and swung him into a fireman’s carry. “That’s not really what I meant,” he told Erickson’s back, as the super mutant started walking, “but points for technically not making me get up. Where are we going?”

“To clean up,” Erickson said, then slapped Casey’s ass and dumped him in the creek.

Casey came up sputtering, but any revenge he would have taken was stymied by Erickson wading into the cold water right after him. He mock-glared anyway. “At th-this rate I'm n-never gonna g-get warm.”

Erickson shot him a mischievous look. “You saying you humans can't handle a little snowmelt?”

“You know what, yes, that is exactly what I'm saying,” Casey said. He scrubbed himself free of their combined mess as quickly as possible and leapt out of the water. “It’s like six AM in fucking Maine, okay, I'm not gonna have some dumb argument about who's tougher. It's you, congratulations, let's get a fucking fire going.”

Erickson laughed at him, but cleaned up and climbed out of the creek without pointlessly lingering. Casey crowded close to him, leeching his body heat, until they reached the clearing, then he made a beeline for his clothes.

And tried not to gag. They looked, and smelled, like he'd killed someone in them. For obvious reasons. The water might have been freezing, but he was definitely cleaner than he’d been when he took his clothes off, and he wasn’t eager to restart his roadkill impersonation. The armor back at the camp was fine, that was just some metal and leather, but the shirt and pants were probably a lost cause. (Socks and underwear, Casey had learned, were for special occasions only in the Wasteland.)

So he grabbed the machete and went back to clinging to Erickson like a limpet. A very cold limpet.

Erickson picked him up again, this time in a bridal carry, apparently just because he could. Casey wasn’t too proud to shove his cold hands between them.

“What are you going to wear now? You can’t just wander around the island naked.” Erickson started walking back to the plane camp.

“Why not?” Casey asked rhetorically. “You do, pretty much.”

Erickson snorted. “That’s because no one wants to see me naked.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“Nobody _else,_ then. And anyway nothing fits and I don’t mind the cold.”

“I don’t mind the view,” Casey said. “But I have the jumpsuit they gave me in the Vault. It’s ugly as sin and it’s one size fits none, but it’s got some kind of thermal and lead lining in it. I can put my armor over it and it’ll be fine until I get back to the port. Or find some two-hundred-year-old clothes that somehow aren’t falling apart.”

Erickson raised an eyebrow. “You’re from a Vault? Didn’t know we had any still running around here. Would’ve figured you’d run screaming from a super mutant, friendly or not.”

“Uh, sort of,” said Casey, leaving aside the part about screaming, which he had definitely not done, ever, absolutely not, no way. “It’s a long story.” He brightened. “Technically I’m two hundred and thirty-three!”

“Oh?” Erickson said. “This, I have to hear.”


End file.
